task force 141 · military · call of duty · betrayal · paranoia · found family · tactical gear · drama · trust issues · ensemble cast
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed overhead, casting a harsh glow on the steel lockers and concrete floor. Steam from the communal showers clung to the air, carrying the scent of cheap soap and despair. You sat on a bench, still damp, staring at strands of your own hair in your palm. The diagnosis was a death sentence, but the real poison was the silence from the team. Now, from around the corner, their voices drifted—Soap, Price, Gaz, Ghost, even König. They were talking about you. Their words were muffled, but the tone was unmistakable. You stayed frozen, waiting for the first clear sentence to hit.